


Mastering the Dark Dance

by LynyrdLionheart



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdLionheart/pseuds/LynyrdLionheart
Summary: Caroline never wanted to work with a Mikaelson again, not after the foul taste left by the last time.  Sadly, Kol has other ideas.And his brother Klaus?  He has an entirely different idea of what "work with" should look like.





	Mastering the Dark Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicacherrylola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicacherrylola/gifts).



> So, I decided to make up my own version of a necromancer. It's not quite as fleshed out as I would like it to be, but I hope you enjoy it!

              “No.”

              It took Caroline Forbes exactly five seconds and one smirk to immediately know that she did _not_ want to get involved with the soul that had manifested in the kitchen of the small apartment she had been renting for the past three years.

              “Now darling, you don’t even know why I’m here.  Let me introduce myself – Kol Mikaelson-”

              “Nope!” Caroline declared, even more emphatically than her previous refusal.  All it took was that name – _Mikaelson_ – and she knew that there was no way in _hell_ she wanted to get involved in whatever hot mess had tried to foist itself onto her.  

              She knew the Mikaelsons – or at least _a_ Mikaelson – and she had spent the better part of five hundred years regretting that acquaintance.  Caroline had enough problems of her own without getting involved with the bogeymen of vampires, and just the thought of Elijah Mikaelson left a sour taste in her mouth that she hadn’t been able to wash out despite the miles and centuries between them.

              “Really, you could at least hear me out-“

              Caroline stopped paying attention, and instead dug through a cupboard.  She frowned when her search appeared futile, and then her fingers curled around what she’d been looking for. 

              She had learned how to make smudge sticks shortly after coming to the new world. They were such a versatile tool, and within seconds Caroline had hers lit and was waving it around the spirit of Kol Mikaelson.

              “What the-”

              For the third time, he was cut off, and Caroline gave a pleased smirk at her freshly empty apartment.  She hadn’t been sure the smudge stick would work, not on someone who had been as powerful in life as an Original vampire.

              Glad to be wrong, she sighed in relief and wondered if there were any hedge witches in the city, who could make her up a quick warding spell.  It would be irritating, of course, their magic going directly against her own… but if it kept her free of Mikaelsons, she would suffer for a bit. Just until the creature stopped trying to reach her.

              If she were truly lucky, he wouldn’t try again at all.

\---

              When Caroline was a young girl of four, she had brought her cat back to life.

              No one else had known the creature had died, so of course all had been well.  In the beginning.  But Caroline’s gaze had been repeatedly drawn the red strings, the ones that only she seemed to see, that connected the cat’s body to her own.

              And when a neighbor boy had tried to attack her, and she had felt nothing but terror, it had been the cat that came to her rescue.  The cat that was thrown against the wall.

              The cat that should have died again, but instead simply shook off a broken neck, sending the neighbor boy away, screaming that Caroline was a witch.

              She had survived the trials that came next, despite only being five.  She had been burned alive, and then walked away, shaking off the ashes as her cat had shaken off a broken neck.

              “Hey, Frederico,” she greeted now, over seven centuries later, when the neighbor boy and her entire girlhood village had long ago vanished from history, while Caroline and the cat remained.

              Frederico – the name changed every decade or so, but he had been Frederico for five years now – meowed in reply, and returned his head to his paws, to continue taking in the sun that shone in through the small window in the den. Caroline had made other friends over the years, but while none of them were guaranteed, she would always have Frederico… no matter the name he carried.

              She had barely closed the apartment door behind her and begun to sort through her mail – mostly bills and one flyer for Wal-mart – when someone banged on her front door.  Caroline froze and glared at it, because she had a door bell.  It was right there, next to the door someone was currently using as a bongo drum.

              Caroline glanced through the peep hole, and felt her brow furrow when she saw Mrs. Wright, the elderly lady that lived down the hall.  Caroline often picked up groceries for her. 

              Helpful neighborhood Necromancer, that was Caroline Forbes.

              She began to unlock the door, but a shiver went down her spine.  It wasn’t anything magical, but instead an instinct.  One that told her something was wrong.  After seven hundred odd years, Caroline had learned to listen to her instincts.  As if to add weight to them, just in case she was doubting that shiver, Frederico twined around her legs, and looked at the door, opening his mouth with an angry hiss.

              “Open the door, Caroline.”

              The voice belonged to Mrs. Wright, but there was something off in the cadence of it.  On top of which – she _never_ called Caroline by her first name.  It was always “Sweetie,” “Sweetheart,” or “Honey,” a leftover from a previous life lived in Texas. 

              There was something familiar in the way she said the name, though.  Something in how the “r” rolled off of her tongue.  She looked through the peep hole again, only to see that Mrs. Wright was staring right at it.  As though she knew Caroline was watching, a slow, cheeky grin curved her lips.

              Caroline was so arrogant as to try and claim that she remembered every soul – dead and alive – that she had ever met.  She’d been alive far too long for that; at this point, there were probably just as many people she’d forgotten as she remembered.

              But the ones that could get her dead?  Considering how difficult killing her was, she remembered everyone that could possibly do it.

              “Kol,” she breathed out, because he might be in the body of a seventy-five year old ex-rancher, but she _knew_ that grin, for all that she’d only seen it once.

              She remembered it, because she made a habit of remembering Mikaelsons.  It was just good life policy.

              “Open up, Darling,” Kol sang out, the words all wrong in Mrs. Wright’s voice.  He knocked on her door with a knuckle, and Caroline winced.  He was being too rough with the body.  All of Mrs. Wright’s joints were arthritic, and she’d be feeling that in her knuckles once she got control back again.

              “How are you in her body?” she demanded, keeping the security chain on the door, and opening it just far enough to glare at him.  At her feet, Frederico arched his back and hissed again.  Kol glanced down, and just stared at the cat for a moment, before looking up at Caroline again, a silvery brow arched.  “My cat.  Answer the question.”

              “But it’s the wrong question, Caroline.  You should be asking _why_ I’m in this body.”

              Kol plucked at the pink cardigan he wore, still smirking.  But his eyes didn’t reflect that smirk.  Instead, they were cold, and Caroline just barely refrained from shivering.

              “Ask me, Darling,” Kol prompted.

              “No,” Caroline replied, contemplating slamming the door shut and packing a bag to hop the first plane to anywhere that wasn’t _there_.  Kol must have been able to read something of her thoughts on her face, because he shoved his foot into the doorway.  Caroline glared at it, but she could hardly slam her door on a foot that Mrs. Wright would need to be able to walk on.

              “You keep saying that to me.  _No_ … I always mocked Nik for the fits he’d throw when he was denied, but I find myself commiserating with him at the moment.”

              _Nik_ had to be Niklaus Mikaelson – The Klaus – and that was one man Caroline never wanted to meet in her life.  Bad enough that she had encountered Elijah via Katerina all those centuries ago, and was being haunted by Kol now.  They were annoying, but at least they weren’t The Hybrid. 

              “Denial happens to everyone.  You’ll live.”  It took her a moment and a bark of laughter from Kol for Caroline to realize that she hadn’t used the best wording.  But she wasn’t up for playing Kol’s games, so she just gave a cold shrug.  “Or you’ll stay dead.  It comes for everyone.”

              “Even you?” Kol purred out, the tone so unlike Mrs. Wright that Caroline actually recoiled.  Kol laughed at her reaction – a grating sound that made her wince.

              “I’m sure it’ll come someday,” Caroline replied.  “But it won’t be at your hands.  The dead can’t touch me.”

              “They can’t,” Kol agreed amicably.  “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Darling.  I like to do my research. Your magic is intriguing, albeit it is an annoyance that I can’t simply threaten your life.  But luckily for me, there is an entire building of mortals here that I _can_ threaten.  I wonder how many will open the door for Mrs. Amelia Wright, here?”

              Kol pulled an arm from behind his back, and held up a heavy chef’s knife, twirling it between his fingers.  His grin was downright evil now, and Caroline gritted her teeth.

              “Perhaps I’ll start killing a neighbor for every no you give me.  Which shall I start with?  I believe 5A has children. That should be easy enough.”

              Caroline knew the kids in 5A.  They were brats who screamed half the time, and cried the other half.  She didn’t particularly care for the kids in 5A.

              Frederico meowed, and Caroline looked down to meet mismatched eyes and sighed heavily.  He was right, of course.  The 5A kids might be giant brats, but letting them die wasn’t high on her to do list.

              “I’m not in the business of being a do-gooder,” she muttered, even as she pushed the door closed and undid the chain, opening it once more to let Kol enter.  He stepped forward, and she put an arm out.  “Leave Mrs. Wright at the door, you heathen.”

              “And lose my leverage?  I’m not a fool, Darling.”

              “And I’m not doing a thing for you until you give up the possession.  You want my help?  You need to show a little trust.”

              “Or I could just kill those children.”

              “And I can find myself a witch to cast me a special little charm and head overseas to lose myself where you’ll never find me.  I’ve had seven hundred years to perfect my art and learn about everyone else’s.  You’re just a dead vampire with a chip on his shoulder who thinks he knows more than he does.  Your. Choice.”

              “You underestimate me, Caroline.”

              “No.  You just overestimate yourself.  Mrs. Wright.  Leave her at the door.”

              Possession didn’t work the way that the movies made it seem to.  There was no demonic visage, to let you know that the victim wasn’t themselves.  It was just the victim’s body and then, once the spirit left it, it was just a person who looked extraordinarily confused.

              Caroline ignored Kol, because it wasn’t like Mrs. Wright could see him, or like he was going to go running off to possess the next neighbor immediately, and instead focused on the old woman who looked pale and off balance.

              “You were saying that you needed some sugar, Mrs. Wright,” Caroline said, friendly smile pasted on her lips, because gaslighting unsuspecting neighbors was basically part of Immortality 101.  “I can get you a cup if you just wait.”

              “Oh, I must have been confused.” Mrs. Wright shook her head and patted at her white hair.  “I know I have sugar.  It’s just… I could have sworn I saw a…” she trailed off, and shook her head again.  “Never mind.  My old mind is playing tricks on me.  I’m sorry for being a bother, Honey.”

              The old woman wandered back down the hall, and Caroline watched her for a moment, until she was sure she had suffered no adverse effects from Kol’s possession.  Then she let the door swing shut and spun on the spectre of the vampire.

              “How did you even possess her?” she demanded with narrowed eyes.  “You’re a vampire.”

              “Oh? Is the Necromancer who Knows Everything actually acknowledging that I may have more knowledge than she?  Please, tell me how I know so little, Caroline.  I do so enjoy the insult.”

              Kol’s smile was sharp, his eyes promising that, if he’d been alive, he would have happily torn her throat out with his teeth.  Quite literally, since he was a vampire. 

              “I have friends on this side of the veil, Darling,” Kol said when Caroline just started top pull down what she needed for tea and otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.  Frederico was watching him, his face made even more ugly by the cat version of a glare that he wore.  Kol bared his teeth in response, and Frederico gave an angry huff and flicked his tail at him, before returning to his lounging spot.  “They’re as interested as I in what you’re capable of, but they’ve been unable to reach you.”

              Caroline turned on the electric kettle and then contemplated the vampire that apparently wasn’t going to leave her alone.  When she was younger, she had greeted the spirits she encountered as old friends, giving them the trust that only the very young and the very stupid could muster.  But just as humans and Immortals alike weren’t created equal on the morality scale, a terrible person still made for a terrible spirit.  She had been burned over the years, and had taken steps to keep those with impure motives from finding her.

              Intriguing, wasn’t it then, that Kol Mikaelson had managed to find her?

              She wanted to know _how._

“But I’ll admit, it wasn’t anyone on this side that truly helped me.  It was a living witch, one that I’m quite fond of. Bonnie Bennet.”

              _Bonnie Fucking Bennet._

When was the last time Caroline had heard that name?  It had to have been at least three decades, when she had married Enzo – or at leas their weird version of it that Caroline didn’t quite understand – and Caroline had given her a charm to prolong life that put her witch’s herbs to shame.

              It had taken time from Caroline’s own life, because death magic didn’t come free, but she hadn’t told either of them that.  Even with time lost, there was no certainty that there was an end in sight for Caroline.  Necromancy was a confusing, complicated form of magic, and by the time she had realized that, Caroline couldn’t be sure what effect it had had on her.

              “Bonnie.  Why would Bonnie help you?  The only vampire she tolerates on a good day is her husband.”

              Kol looked rather smugly pleased with himself as he shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

              “We came to certain agreements, the three of us.  We had great fun together.  Surely for their sake you’d be willing to help a mutual friend?”

              Caroline didn’t say anything, but she did grab her phone, typing out an angrily worded text, about limitations and keeping each other updated on respective sex lives, in case dead Original vampires popped up out of the blue. 

              Bonnie’s response was simple, but hit right at Caroline’s heart.

              _Care, please.  I owe him._

Dammit.

              “I can’t just, like, bring people back to life,” Caroline declared, setting her phone to the side with a thud.  Sensing her tumultuous mood, Frederico padded to her side and let her pick him up, his purr a soothing rumbling as she held him against her chest.  Kol looked at the cat, and then at her with a raised brow, and apparently Bonnie had been telling tales, because very few others knew that Frederico was anything more than a regular cat.  “Okay, I’ll rephrase: I can’t just bring people back to life _without any consequences_.”

              Frederico would live exactly as long as Caroline did.  His will was tied to her own.  He was basically her puppet, should she choose to exercise that ability.

              She didn’t, but the bond existed.

              And Kol didn’t need to know the dirty details.  He just needed to know that death magic was never free.

              “Well, luckily for you, I don’t intend to force you to work alone.” Kol contemplated her, and his slow smirk made her feel uneasy.  “You see, Nik has been seeking a solution to my little being dead issue.  But his plan is lacking in a major factor.”

              “It needs a necromancer.”

              “Exactly, Darling.  And in return, I swear no MIkaelson will bother you ever again.  On my honor.”

              Caroline doubted Kol had much by the way of honor, but she had a few tricks up her sleeves that would make him beholden to that promise.  Elijah Mikaelson may not have dogged her heels for centuries as he and Klaus had Katerina… but she’d also studiously avoided anything that could remind him that she existed.

              It had been annoying, when she had encountered members of that annoying little group of vampires he had sired and, rather than ending them as they deserved, had looked the other way in the face of their arrogance. 

              If she helped Kol, then the first thing she could do was find Tristan de Martel and make him dance to her tune. Literally. 

              All she had to do was work with the Big Bad of Everything and bring one pesky little mass murderer back to life.  Caroline weighed the potential for death against her conscience and found that she didn’t have much of one left.

              “Okay,” she said to Kol.  “Fine.  But you’ll keep your word, and I’m doing this for Bonnie.”

              And so she could shove Tristan’s head up Elijah’s ass.  But Kol didn’t need to know that.

\---

              New Orleans was a city that didn’t like Caroline.

              She didn’t care for it either, admittedly.

              The witches of the Quarter were possessive of their power and their spirits.  Caroline put their hold over both in danger, because they may have made an art of exercising power over the dead, but even on their best day they couldn’t compare to Caroline on her worst.

              They were witches – they may twist and bastardize their magic until it worked on the dead, but they would never have the natural hold over it that Caroline possessed.  The living witches might not know that, but their Ancestors surely did, and they made their displeasure known to Caroline the second she stepped on the land they called their own.

              But they could be as displeased as they wanted.  They still couldn’t harm her.  Just be irritating.

              “You seem displeased,” Kol murmured, as Caroline focused on her phone and calling an Uber.  The spirits of the New Orleans witches were pricking at her, like tiny needles poking her skin, and she had to let her own power flare for a moment, to swat them away like the gnats they were.

              Kol hadn’t experienced her magic, not yet – the smudge had been a borrowed tool, after all – and so he looked startled at this first taste.

              “Don’t gape,” she murmured, low enough so the people around her wouldn’t hear.  “You knew I was a Necromancer.  Where are we going?”

              He gave her an address, and she ordered the ride, aware that he continued to watch her the whole time.

              “Do you know how many Necromancers there are?” he asked at last, as she crossed her arms and tapped her toe impatiently.

              “Yes,” she replied shortly.  “Me. We’re kind of like the Slayer.  Into one generation is born… only we’re difficult to kill, so we last a while.”

              “Exactly.  One.  So while I may have known that is what you’re called, the reality is somewhat abstract.  Nik is going to be livid that he won’t be able to collect you.”

              “We need to talk about that,” she said, holding up her phone when she saw the license plate of the car she had ordered.  She slid in, giving the driver a quick smile, and then looked the window, murmuring to Kol out of the corner of her mouth as he settled next to her.  “Your family can’t know that I’m a Necromancer.”

              “Nik won’t believe you can help if you don’t explain it.”

              “ _Nik_ will believe I’m a witch,” Caroline replied shortly, and why shouldn’t he?  Elijah had believed that.  Still believed it to this day, which was probably another reason she hadn’t been hunted as Katerina had.

              Maybe she should see what Kat was up to.  It had been a while since Caroline had had good sex, and Kat was always a sure thing.

              “Nik may let his little pet witches perform spells as they wish, but Elijah is more in tune with what they should be capable of.  When he realizes what you can do, he’ll know it’s not the usual witch’s fare.”

              “Elijah?” Caroline barked, ignoring the way the Uber driver startled and stared at her.  “You never said Elijah was going to be there.  Take me back to the airport.  Or a bus station.  Anything that can get me the hell away from this city.”

              “What?” Kol yelped, glaring at her.  “You made me promises, Caroline Forbes.  I’ll not see you break them.”

              “None of those promises mentioned Elijah fucking Mikaelson.  Some things a girl just won’t do.”

              Now that Caroline was actively thinking about him, she couldn’t even recall if Elijah was meant to believe she was dead.  Maybe _that’s_ why he had hunted Katerina, but not Caroline.  The state she had been in after everything… he probably thought she was dead.

              Shit.

              Fuck.

              How did one explain that they were seven hundred years old and not dead when they were supposed to be a witch who, while able to extend their life, _wasn’t meant to be Immortal_.

              This was all a terrible idea, and thank God Caroline had come to her sense before she arrived on the Mikaelson doorstep.

              When the driver went to change their destination, Kol slid into the front seat and then, before Caroline could stop her, right into the Uber driver’s body.

              There was a brief moment while contact was made, when it looked like they might swerve into oncoming traffic, and then Kol was driving.

              “Bonnie should have never taught you how to do that,” Caroline muttered darkly.  “How did she even know how to teach you how to do that?  Is she fucking with death magic again?  I told her to stop doing that.”

              “But she’s so very good at it,” Kol replied, locking the doors when Caroline tried to open it.  She shoved the lock up, only for him to lock it again.  That continued for the next five minutes, and Caroline glared at the back of Kol’s head, while he glared at her in the rearview mirror.

              She wished she had Frederico.  He could have distracted the vampire while she escaped… but she’d left the cat with Mrs. Wright.

              She’d probably never see him again at this rate.

              “You have an issue with my brother,” Kol noted flatly.  “And not the one most people usually have an issue with.”

              “I fucked Katerina Petrova better than he ever did,” Caroline snapped out.  “He’s still sore about that.”

              Kol let out a snort of laughter, and Caroline just rolled her eyes. 

              “He’s going to try and kill me,” Caroline said after another moment, staring out the window.  “He’ll probably be confused that I’m not dead.  I think he probably thinks I am.”

              “Well, luckily for us, you can’t die.”

              Another mirthless snort of laughter.

              “Everyone can die, Kol.  It just takes longer for some of us to stay that way.”

\---

              Klaus Mikaelson was pure evil.

              It wasn’t even opinion anymore, but simple fact.  There had been a time when it wasn’t true, but that had been centuries ago, before paranoia became Klaus’ greatest personality trait.  It had become obvious, early on, that he and his family would always be a target, and the only way to keep them all safe was for everyone else to fear them.  Hence – being pure evil.

              Eventually, it went from an act to the simple truth.

              But despite that fearsome reputation, the fools in Mystic Falls had decided to kill his younger brother.  By that time, the Doppelganger had been turned into a vampire, making the fools’ only use… non-existent.

              Their deaths had been painful and messy – Elena Gilbert and her Salvatores.  Klaus still sometimes fondly remembered their screams.

              But they had killed Kol.  And now here was a witch, with pretty blue eyes and pretty blonde hair and pretty promises… and answers only Kol should know, giving some credence to those pretty promises.

              “What do you want?” Klaus asked.  He sat across a heavy oak desk, while the witch – Caroline Forbes – was perched on a chair across from him.  It was all very official and businesslike.  She had insisted up on it, in fact.  “I doubt you’re offering to do this out of the goodness of your heart, after all.”

              “Your brother is annoying,” Caroline replied, her lips tightening as she spoke.  “I’m pretty sure he’ll keep stalking me unless I take preventative measures.  It’s easier to avoid the living than the dead.”

              Her eyes darted to the space just over his shoulder, and Klaus felt a shiver run down his spine.  Her lips tried to quirk into a smile, and she obviously forced herself to look back at Klaus.

              “What’s he doing?” Klaus asked, feeling resigned to the fact that Kol was most likely doing something disgustingly immature.  It was the Kol thing to do.

              “You don’t want to know,” Caroline replied, her fingers twining together tightly in her lap.  “But if I could see the spell?  And the witches that were going to cast it?  The sooner I get done here, the sooner I leave.”

              Her tone of voice made it very clear that she very much wanted to leave.  As soon as she could.

              And Klaus found he was loathe to let her.

              She was hardly the first witch to ever be brought to his attention.  She wasn’t even the first witch to be brought to his attention by Kol – his younger brother had a taste for them that had spanned centuries.

              But she was the first to wear darkness in her eyes as though it were an old friend, instead of an out of place monster, brought on by the search for more power than she was meant to have.  Witches that dabbled in death often met painful ends, for messing with a power beyond their reach.  Caroline, however, wore her power easily, as though it were a natural thing. 

              She might keep the extent of her power hidden, but Klaus had dabbled with enough witches to recognize their power, even when they kept it hidden. But that she kept it hidden?

              Well, Klaus was paranoid. 

              He required answers.  Always.

              “Don’t be so hasty, Love.  Kol has been dead these three months.  I’m sure he’ll keep a little longer whilst I learn what you’re capable of.” Klaus gave her a charming smile, and she looked back with a deadpan expression, her gaze shooting to where he assumed Kol was once more, before she sighed heavily.

              “He’s right.  You _are_ a wanker,” Caroline muttered darkly.

              Klaus continued to smile, and then quirked his head when he heard shuffling in the house, the sound of a door.  He recognized Elijah’s steps almost immediately.

              “My brother, Elijah, has returned.  I’m sure he’ll have his own questions.  We can never be too sure of strangers.  You understand?”

              Caroline said nothing, had gone oddly pale, in a way that made Klaus’ eyes narrow.  He stepped to the door and spoke loud enough to catch Elijah’s attention.

              “A witch has come, to bring Kol back to us.  You should meet her, brother.”

              He turned away from the door and, for the first time in centuries, found himself actually gaping.

              “I don’t care if you want to come back to life!” Caroline was snapping at empty air, as she shoved the window of the office open, swinging one leg over the ledge.  “I said I’d talk to Klaus.  I’ve held up my end of this bargain.  I never agreed to anything if your _other_ brother got involved – what do you _mean_ there are three other brothers? Actually, never mind.  I don’t care.  Fuck this.”

              She was looking down, assumedly trying to figure out if she should simply drop the two storeys to the New Orleans street, when Elijah appeared next to Klaus.

              He must be going soft, because he was once more left gaping as Elijah flashed forward, and then the corpse of the witch was on the floor, her heart removed.

              “That was the witch meant to bring our brother back to life,” Klaus said, his voice dangerously silky.  He may no longer have daggers to hold over his siblings heads – Kol had made sure of that, before his untimely death – but he was still the most dangerous of them all.

              And he had been intrigued by the little witch.

              “She’s no witch,” Elijah replied, his tone hard in a way Elijah rarely ever was.  “She’s a lackey of Katerina’s.  Whatever she offered, it was a lie.”

              Which would make sense – because it really had seemed too good to be true.  But she had known things only Kol would.

              _And Klaus had been intrigued by her._

“What happens to her should have been _my_ prerogative,” Klaus replied, his voice a hard lash.  “Or have you forgotten that your presence in this city is allowed only because _I_ allow it?  I could banish you now, and you would never see your little werewolf again.”

              Elijah’s eyes flickered, and Klaus let out a scoff of ridicule.  His big brother – ever the White Knight.  Not that Hayley Marshall needed it.  She was manipulative and clever, and Klaus respected her as an ally and Alpha of the werewolves, and for the way she led Elijah around.

              She’s tried to turn those wiles on him, once.  Klaus had made it clear that his amusement with her machinations would come to a swift end should she try again.   

              For now, however, she remained a weakness of Elijah’s that Klaus was all too happy to exploit.  If his brother wished to believe Ms. Marshall was in need of saving, who was Klaus to say otherwise, after all?

              “You know as well as I that Katerina is a poison, Niklaus.  One that has no place here.”

              Because rather than wait for Elijah to swoop in and save her, Katerina Petrova had taken her fate into her own hands and fled them all.  It still galled Klaus, and he took a twisted glee in hunting her, but Elijah viewed what she had done as an affront to his very character.

              How very exhausting it must be, to be Elijah Mikaelson.

              Klaus felt that shiver down his spine again, and he glanced around, wondering if Kol were doing… whatever once more.

              His gaze fell on Caroline, and the wound bleeding in her chest.  Only, it didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore.

              Klaus frowned, and took a step towards her body.  As he reached her side, her eyes suddenly opened, taking in a deep gasp of breath, and Klaus took a surprised step back.

              “Do you know,” she began, clutching the tatters of shirt together, not caring about the blood that soaked through it, “how painful it is to regrow a heart? Because it is.  _Painful_.”

              Well, wasn’t this a fascinating occurrence.  Klaus knelt down next to her, and reached out, twining some of her hair around his fingers.  She was very real.  Entirely corporeal.  A glance back showed that Elijah was gaping, or at least his refined version of it, which meant he wasn’t seeing a spectre.

              “You’ve been keeping secrets, Love,” Klaus murmured, stroking his thumb over the strands of her hair.  She scowled and tugged it away, glaring at a spot to Elijah’s left.

              “I hope you’re ready to pay up when this is all done, you asshole.”

\---

              Evisceration was still the most painful death that Caroline had ever experienced.  Mostly because her powers brought the dead back, they didn’t heal.  And that was the same for her own life.

              She had to be dead, before she could reset the clock on her body and return to it.

              It had taken her close to an hour, do die after Elijah had torn her stomach open and left her there as he chased after Katerina.  Caroline had spent that time in excruciating pain, imagining what she would do to Elijah in turn if they ever faced each other again.

              “Get killed by him again” had never crossed her mind.

              It was a little bit humiliating.

              She wanted Frederico even more.

              “That must be some history, Darling.  Elijah is the rational one of us,” Kol mused, walking around his besuited older brother, looking at him as though he’d never quite seen this version of Elijah before.

              Maybe he hadn’t.  Elijah liked to play the part of the noble hero; wasn’t that how Katerina had gotten caught up with him to begin with?  In the end, Caroline had simply offered her a choice, and Katerina had chosen to save herself.

              Elijah hadn’t liked that, and Caroline had paid the price for his wounded pride. She’d not forget that.

              She ran a hand over her chest, relieved when she touched nothing but mended skin.  She was always afraid she would come back wrong, though it had never once happened in her centuries of living (and dying).  Looking around, she grabbed a throw pillow and held it over her chest, because Klaus was watching her with an expression that was entirely too interested, and Elijah looked as though he might rip her heart out again.

              She hoped he wouldn’t.  Even now, her heart was still recovering, leaving her feeling weaker and light headed – not at all the 100% she’d like to be when facing down three Original brothers. 

              “If he’s rational, then I don’t think I want to know what you consider _irrational_ ,” Caroline replied, clutching the pillow with one arm, placing the other on her cocked hip.  “Do I need to apologize?  Would that stop you from _tearing out my heart_?”

              “Perhaps,” Elijah replied, his voice dangerously low.  “Give it a try.  Let us see.”

              “Fine.  I’m sorry I gave Katerina Petrova better orgasms than you did.  It’s not your fault men tend to be disappointing.”

              Kol let out a bark of laughter that made Caroline’s lips twitch.  Klaus chuckled low, while Elijah looked ready to go for her heart again.

              Oddly enough, it was the most _irrational_ of the bunch that stepped in front of him.

              “Don’t be such a bore, Elijah. I know Finn is no longer here to play the part, but that doesn’t mean you must pick up the slack.”  He eyed Caroline, and she felt her spine stiffen at his look.  “Now, Love, why don’t you tell me about that little resurrection act?  I’ve yet to meet a witch in my thousand years who can do such a thing.”

              “Multiple times,” Elijah added.  “I encountered her five hundred years ago.  Even if I hadn’t sliced out her intestines, she should be dead of old age by now. Not even a witch can prolong their life to that extent.”

              Caroline huffed and slumped onto the loveseat, her shoulders slumping down. 

              “What if I said that I found a few spells and they’re great?”

              “That’s a terrible attempt at acting, Darling.  You can do better,” Kol commented, and Caroline grabbed another throw pillow, throwing it through him.

              “Shut up.  You’re annoying.”

              Klaus eyed the spot where Caroline was glaring contemplatively, and then he took the seat next to her, sitting so that his leg pressed against her own.  She glared at him, and he just smirked, dimples cutting into his cheeks, in reply.

              “While I’m sure Kol is very annoying – lord knows I’d had enough of him by the time he died – he’s really not who you need to be paying attention to, Love.”  There was a dangerous glint in Klaus’ eye, the kind that promised trouble.  Katerina had that glint, often, it was 99% of the reason that they had gone their separate ways after just a decade.  Caroline didn’t like to court danger.  “Now, again… why don’t you tell me what you are?”

              She nibbled on her lip, mind whirring as she tried to think about what lie she could tell that he would believe.  Despite Kol’s comments on her acting skills, Caroline was an exceptional liar.  Her father had taught her; the trick was to give the lie just enough truth to make it real.

              Whatever lie she would have come up with, the world would never know, however.  Because in a moment dramatic enough for the movies, the doors burst open, granting entrance to a black man, followed by another.  The latter was a vampire, but the first had power that punched at Caroline.

              Oh… the New Orleans Ancestors _really_ weren’t happy she was there. 

              “Why the hell have you brought a Necromancer into _my_ territory?” he demanded, glare focused eagle-eyed on Klaus.  “This isn’t how we do peace, Klaus.”

              “ _Your_ territory, Vincent?” Klaus replied, his voice dangerously pleasant.  Caroline had a feeling that being pleasant was never genuine, not with this particular man.  “Please, sit.  Tell me more about how this is _your_ territory.”

              Caroline had to give the witch props – he managed to look back at Klaus without shriveling up into a shadow of his former self.  There probably weren’t many people, be they witch, vampire, or a fucking Unicorn, that could claim that.

              “Want me to call it our territory instead?  Fine.  But then let’s make sure we keep the dregs of the Supernatural away from it.  Necromancers are unnatural.  They only bring trouble.”

              Caroline wondered if she could make it fully out the window this time.  It wasn’t that far, and Klaus seemed pretty focused on his conversation with the witch.  If she moved carefully, maybe no one would even realize what she was doing until she was outside and on her way back to the airport.

              It seemed lik a good idea to her.

              A warm hand landed on her knee, and Caroline scowled at Klaus’ limb.  She felt his gaze on her, and so directed that scowl upwards as well.

              “Well, Love, care to weigh in on this conversation?”

              “Necromancers aren’t unnatural.  Witches are just pissed off that I can do things they can’t.  Or shouldn’t.  You guys really need to stop messing with death magic.  I mean, _you_ using it?  Yeah, that’s unnatural.”  She crossed her arms and stared stonily at Vincent, who stared back, because apparently he’d found out about the Necromancer in New Orleans, but he hadn’t realized it was Caroline.

              Noob.  He should have recognized her power immediately.  She’d recognized his, after all.

              “You’re a Necromancer?” asked the vampire that had accompanied Vincent.  Her surveyed Caroling contemplatively, a brow raising at how close to her Klaus was.  “You’re… not what I expected.”

              “What?  Did you think that I would wear a cape and avoid sunlight in my dungeon?” Caroline brushed Klaus’ hand away and got to her feet, carefully smoothing her clothes as she did so.  “And I’m not _a_ Necromancer.  I’m _the_ Necromancer. As in there is only one.  Because balance matters, and that’s how it’s maintained – making me _perfectly natural_.  And if we can stop with… all of this.  I would very much like to do what I came here to do and then _leave_.”

              “How about you just leave now?” Vincent replied.  “Take your bad juju with you.”

              “Did you really just use _juju?_   Who even does that anymore?  The nineties would like it’s terrible language back.” She gave Vincent her best _bless your heart and go fuck yourself_ smile.  “And I can’t just leave.  Because if I do, Kol Mikaelson will follow me.  And he’s annoying.”

              “I’ll have only fond memories of you as well, Darling,” Kol promised, and Caroline looked at him, unimpressed.

              “I’m really going to have to ask Bonnie about your weird thing.  I’m not surprised Lorenzo let you come home with him, but she usually has better taste.”  She turned her head to Klaus.  “Your witch and your spell?  Let’s get this over with.”

              “Of course… Vincent, meet Caroline.  Caroline, meet Vincent… my witch.”

              Caroline wondered if it was possible to sigh into eternity.

\---

              “Did you know Necromancers were a thing?” Marcellus asked, as they watched Caroline and Vincent glare at each other over the top of the grimoire of dark magic that Klaus had had to threaten and cajole his way into obtaining.  Vincent hadn’t wanted to play along, but theirs was an uneasy peace, and they both knew that if Klaus decided to rid the world of the New Orleans bunch, then there was very little they could do to stop it.

              Admittedly, they could make it difficult… but Klaus would ultimately win.

              “Necromancer,” Elijah interjected stiffly, because he was determined not to let Caroline Forbes out of his sight.  It was rather irritating, considering that Klaus would rather like to get the little witch… _Necromancer_ alone.  He thought one on one discussion would be much better in learning what she was capable of. “Seeing as, apparently, there is only one.”

              “Still angry she didn’t stay dead?” Klaus asked jovially, and Elijah’s expression tightened.  “You shouldn’t be.  Had she, we would be having words, brother.  Unpleasant ones.”

              “She is nothing to you, Niklaus.  Why should you care?”

              “Because, she intrigues me.  And I hate to lose that before I so choose.  Do remember that, Elijah.”

              Klaus stepped away from his brother, up to where Caroline was jabbing angrily at the spell.

              “And I’m telling you, this won’t work as is!”

              “Problems?” Klaus asked.

              “No,” Vincent replied immediately.

              “Yes,” Caroline shot out over him, grabbing the book and shoving it into Klaus’ face.  He understood the words, of course – Latin was just one of the many languages he spoke.  But he didn’t know how the spell worked, or why Caroline was so irate with it.  He wasn’t a witch, after all.  “The language is all wrong.  I mean, even if I _did_ cast spells in Latin, this translation doesn’t make any sense as an incantation.”

              “And what do you use if not Latin?” Vincent demanded.  “It’s the language of magic.”

              “It’s the language of _witches_ ,” Caroline argued.  “I’m the Necromancer.  My power originated in Persia.  My spells are written in either Old Persian or, in the more modern days, Tajiki.  I have a few books that are in Russian.  It’s the Cyrillic script.”

              “Why don’t you just bring him back, then?” Vincent argued.  “I’ve heard the stories.  Bringing back the dead without a sacrifice.  Playing with death like it’s nothing.  This shouldn’t even be necessary for you.”

              It irritated Klaus, that he had no knowledge of this Necromancer, when, apparently, Vincent did.  In a thousand years, he should have encountered such a creature, after all.

              Yet here was Caroline, an enigma to him.

              “I can’t just snap my fingers and boom, he’s alive again,” Caroline shot back.  “And of course there’s a price to pay.  It’s freaking _death_ magic.  There’s always a price.  It’s just not the same as it is for you.” She tapped her fingers in a staccato on the pages of the spell book, nibbling on her lower lip.  Klaus wondered what she’d do, if he started to nibble on it for her.

              He had always been attracted to the unique and powerful, being both himself, and Caroline was remarkably attractive on top of that.  It was no surprise to him that he’d want her, although he would have to be sure the wanting didn’t distract him from the fact that she had entered the city under false pretenses.

              “What is this price?” Klaus asked, bracing his hands on the table as he stood next to her.  When Caroline remained hesitant, he felt a flicker of anger.  Klaus preferred to get his answers immediately.  “Come now, Love, shouldn’t we decide if it’s something we’re willing to pay?”

              She slowly released her breath, and then shrugged.

              “It creates a bond,” she said at last.  “If I brought Kol back like that… it would create a bond.  He would be beholden to me.”

              Klaus sensed there was more to it than that, but Vincent went on the offensive before he could push her further.

              “And how do you know this?  Did you bring someone back to life, make them your little puppet?”

              “Of course not!” Caroline snapped back immediately.  After a beat of silence, her expression turned somewhat sheepish.  “I brought back my cat.”

              “Your cat?” that came from Marcel, who looked on with clear amusement.  He would find the mess to be amusing.

              “I was four,” Caroline replied, her tone defensive.  “And Frederico is a good cat!  I mean, at the time he wasn’t named Frederico, but he is now… and he’s a good cat.  _And I was four!_ ”

              This was addressed to the air between Marcel and Elijah, and Klaus wondered if the cat in question were as much a spitfire as its mistress.  Because Caroline looked ready to hiss at what he had to assume was Kol.

              “Anyway.” Caroline looked away from Kol, seeming to turn up her nose at him.  “The point is, free will is important, and I imagine no one in this room would approve of my being able to control an Original… so we need to figure out a better spell.  Let me see that one.”

              She stared down at the book, and began to scribble on a notepad.  Klaus tilted his head to see her writing, and saw that it was Cyrillic, but even with his knowledge of Russian, the translation wasn’t clear.  He thought she might simply be translating the spell.

              “I don’t speak Tajiki,” Vincent pointed out with a stony expression.  “So this isn’t going to help us.”

              “Sure it is,” Caroline replied with a furrowed brow.  “For example – when I fix it, the spell will actually work.  For another, _you_ don’t need to understand it.  I’ll re-translate it into English.”

              “I told you – _we do spells in Latin_.”

              “And that’s just because witches want to sound smart.  The language doesn’t matter, but the words do.  The spell needs to be _right_ , and I can make sure it’s right if I write it out in Tajiki.”

              She finished writing and stared at the words.  After a moment, she wrinkled her nose, crossed something out, and scrawled something else.  Once that was done, she started to write English words in neat printing. 

              “That doesn’t even look like a spell,” Klaus noted.  It had some flowery language, but he was pretty sure spells were meant to rhyme.

              “Witches are pretentious.  So are Necromancers.  We do pretentious things.  None of that really matters.”

              “And how do you know this, Miss Forbes, considering that you are alone in your powers?” Elijah asked, which was a valid question.  One Klaus would like answered himself. 

              “Necromancer.  Dead people.  I see them.  All the time.”  Caroline finished writing the spell and shoved it at Vincent.  “The spirits of previous Necromancers pop up every now and then to give me their wisdom. It’s… something.  That’s the spell.  Do your witchy stuff to get the corpse ready.  Have a nice life.”

              Caroline was to the door, before any of them realized she fully intended to leave them. 

              “Woah woah woah!” Vincent all but shouted at her back, and Klaus was there in an instant, closing the door she had begun to open.

              “I was under the impression you were needed to cast this particular spell, Love.  Don’t tell me you’re going to leave the job half done.”

              She sighed heavily, and turned to look at them.

              “Look, that spell doesn’t need a Necromancer.  It just… needed to be re-written.  That’s why it didn’t work before.  I re-wrote it.  It should work.  Theoretically.”

              “Theoretically,” Elijah echoed, and Klaus gave a charming grin.

              “Well, Love, consider yourself our guest until the spell has been successfully cast.”

              Caroline stared at him, and then looked longingly towards the door, before she sighed heavily.

              “Seriously?” she asked at last.

              Klaus’s smile simply deepened.

\---

              She didn’t get why it should take a full twenty-four hours for some witch to cast a stupid spell.  It wasn’t that difficult.  Wave around some herbs, light a few candles for mood lighting, and say the stupid spell.  She’d even given into Vincent’s stupid bitching and translated it to Latin.  She wouldn’t have, but he was going to do it himself and bastardize it, because these modern witches didn’t know the old languages like they should.

              “Maybe I should start a school,” she said to the air.  She half expected Kol to respond, but instead it was a different brother.

              “A school?  What exactly would you teach at such a place?  How to avoid Originals for Centuries?”

              She watched Klaus come into the library she had claimed for her own.  Instead of taking any one of the bazillion chairs scattered around, she once more chose to sit next to her on the love seat.  Caroline hugged her knees to her chest, and stared at him over them.

              “Obviously not.  I got caught after all.” She rested her chin on her knee and considered him.  “Latin.  The correct way.  Other magical stuff.  I’ve been around for seven hundred years, and when I die there will be nothing to show for it except a fixed spell and my cat’s litterbox.”

              “Do you really want to teach a bunch of magical children.”

              Caroline considered the option, and then thought of neighbor and the shitty kids, and that made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. 

              “No,” said at last.  “I hate kids.  They always ask the worst questions, and they touch everything, even if you tell them it will blow them up.  Even more likely if you tell them it will blow them up, because they’re also stupidly reckless.  But it’s kind of a nice, theoretical dream.”

              “You’re big on your theoreticals, aren’t you, Love?”

              “My magic is based almost entirely on theoreticals,” Caroline replied with a shrug.  “It’s not like I can go around using death magic willy nilly.  I did, when I was a kid.  I’m still not sure exactly what prices I have left to pay.”

              “Let’s talk about those prices.”  He grasped her ankles, and Caroline found herself sitting with her legs stretched across Klaus’ lap.  She wondered how many people could say that.  Probably not many.

              She wondered why he was letting her.  It was probably supposed to put her at ease.  It didn’t work.

              “I don’t know what you mean,” she said simply.  “I told you – I bring someone back, they have to do as I say.  They’re like a puppet, just with personality.  I could be Jeff Dunham.”

              “Jeff Dunham is an idiot,” Klaus replied, and Caroline raised her brow, mostly because she hadn’t expected Klaus to even know who that was.

              Now she was imagining him at a puppet comedy show… and okay, she had to stop doing that, because the thought was humorous and made him seem almost… not human, but not a monster either.

              It was dangerous.

              “I’m too smart to be seduced by you,” she finally said.

              “That’s why I like you,” he responded, and he removed her heels.  Caroline barely restrained a hiss of pleasure when he dug his thumbs into the bottoms of her feet.     

              And what fucked up alternate reality had she stepped in, that Klaus freaking Mikaelson was giving her a foot rub?

              A really good foot rub.

              She dug her fingers into the loveseat, and couldn’t resist closing her eyes when he hit a particularly sweet spot.

              “Come, Love, share a little with me.”

              Ooh, he was good.  But after a moment, she decided that it wasn’t really a secret worth keeping.  He already knew about the tie of free will – that was the dangerous knowledge, after all.

              “When I bring someone back to life, theirs is tied to mine.  Theoretically.” The foot rub was feeling entirely too good, and she had to pull them away, pulling her knees to her chest once more.  “I’ve died before, obviously. And when I did, so did Frederico.  Until I came back.”

              It had left them helpless, and Caroline had hated feeling helpless.  She hated her cat being helpless even more.

              She would probably hate Elijah forever for making her feel that way.

              God… Frederico.  Had Mrs. Wright noticed the creature was dead for a brief while?  Or had she assumed he was asleep?

              “My cat.  I need to check on my cat.”

              Klaus gaped at her back, but Caroline didn’t care.  When Mrs. Wright answered her call, said Frederico was wonderful and content, and didn’t even mention death… she felt nothing but relief.

              “So much love for a cat,” Klaus mused, still sitting on the loveseat.

              “He’s been my constant companion for centuries,” Caroline replied, holding her cell to her chest.  “He’s… my family.  All I have.”

              “What if he didn’t have to be?”

              Caroline blinked, and then stared at him.  Finally, she let out a bark of laughter.

              “What – you?  You wouldn’t be my companion.  You would be my boss with benefits.  I’d be expected to jump when you told me to.  I know how Mikaelsons deal with witches.  Frederico expects nothing from me except food and affection, and even the affection is optional most days.  I’ll stick with him.”

              “You’re not a witch,” Klaus pointed out.  “You’re a – _The_ – Necromancer.  And a cat can’t keep you warm at night.”

              “Sure he can.  He’s like a mini space heater.”

              When Klaus just raised his brows, Caroline pursed her lips and shrugged, not looking at him.  Frederico was wonderful, for a cat.  But sometimes she missed having another person.  She might trust Bonnie and Enzo, she might even fall into bed with Katerina again every now and then… but in the end, she was eternally alone, except for a grumpy cat.

              It was… lonely.

              She was lonely.

              “I don’t trust you,” she said at last.  “That’s not exactly a little thing.”

              “Get to know me,” Klaus replied.  “I’d like to get to know you.  Your hopes, your dreams.”

              “You’d like to get to know my magic,” Caroline countered, and Klaus chuckled.

              “We have a spell that raises the dead now.  Do you really think your power is necessary?”

              She huffed, and sat on the love seat again, and if she sat a bit closer, let their legs touch… well, that was neither here nor there.

              “I charmed it.  The note pad, I mean.  Well, the sheet the spell is on.  I lied about not needing my magic.  Vincent will totally need my magic.  I just didn’t need to be there for him to use it.”

              “Clever girl,” Klaus murmured, and Caroline shrugged.

              “Clever girls stay alive.”

              And that had been the story of her seven hundred years.  Staying alive, staying clear of Originals… staying clear of anyone that could do her harm.

              It was exhausting.

              “I was born in the part of Russia they call Siberia,” she said at last, and Klaus shot her a glance.  “You said you wanted to get to know me, right?  Well, I was born in Siberia.  When I was five, I was burned alive.  My father led the mob that did it.  I brought myself back to life, and my mother found me.  We fled.  She died when I was eighteen.  By that point, I already had a good handle on my powers.  I wanted to bring her back, but she asked me not to.  She loved me, enough to save me… but never enough to not be afraid of me.”

              “The man I thought was my father tried to kill me,” Klaus said after a few beats of silence.  “My mother as well.  Both nearly succeeded.  Yet here I stand, outliving them both.”

              Caroline let a small smile curl her lips.

              “Shitty parents.  I guess relationships have started with weaker beginnings.”

              “Oh – and is this going to be a relationship?”

              It was stupid.  He still probably wanted her mostly for her powers.  And his brother had killed her. Twice. 

              But his hands had been warm and strong, and Caroline was so very tired of being alone.

              “I don’t know.  Maybe.”

\---

              Kol Mikaelson, alive and in the flesh, was every bit as annoying as Kol Mikaelson, dead guy.

              Only now he had an entire family, an entire city, to annoy.  And that took some of the pressure off of Caroline.

              Still, he found her in the library, the day after the spell was successfully cast, holding the paper up in the air.

              “Is this utterly useless now that I’ve been revived?”

              She took the proffered paper and folded it into quarters, watching as he wandered about the library thoughtfully.

              “Yes,” she said at last.  “I mean, the spell is still golden.  But without my power to break through to the Dead, whatever got brought back probably wouldn’t be pretty.”

              “A zombie?”

              “I hate that term.  And that whole idea,” Caroline complained.  “They always try to get so science-y, and it’s like, stop trying, people.  Reanimated corpses are science-y.  They’re magic.” When Kol just smirked, she scowled in return.  “But yes.  Basically a zombie.”

              “That could be interesting,” Kol mused, and the way he looked at the paper in her hand made it clear he was contemplating taking it back. 

              Caroline ripped it up while he watched, making him roll his eyes and huff.

              “You’re no fun, Darling.  And that’s why I’ll be taking my leave.  I’ve already bid my adieus to my lovely family.  Lorenzo and the fair Bonnie are awaiting me.  Any message I should pass on?”

              “Tell them I did this” – Caroline looked at him, her expression flat and expressionless, and then she raised her hand and flipped him off – “they’ll know what it means.”

              “I’m old, but not a fossil.  Even I know what that means, Caroline.”

              “The expression is important, too.  Just flipping them off doesn’t give the same feeling of disappointment.”

              Kol chuckled and leaned against the back of her love seat.  Caroline had grown very fond of it.

              “You know, you could come with me.  I’ve seen the way Nik looks at you.  My brother… he breaks what he touches, Caroline.”

              “I know,” Caroline replied, giving a slow nod.  “But… I don’t really stay dead.  So I’m probably safe.”

              “Theoretically?”

              “Theoretically.”

              Kol gave her another long look, and then shrugged in that carefree way of his.

              “Were I the type to care more, I’d say that _hurt_ and _dead_ are two different things, and that you’re not at all immune to the former.”

              “But we both know you’re not the type to care.”

              “Not at all.”

              She watched him leave, and thought it was sort of sweet, the way he did care.  But apparently being responsible for bringing someone back to life meant they felt sort of fond of you.

              She hoped that was it.  Her magic had only made reaching the dead possible, it had been Vincent’s that had actually brought Kol back.  He shouldn’t be having any free will issues.  She really hoped he wasn’t.

              Bonnie would freak if he was.

              But she would stop thinking about that, because there was no way to know, not at the moment, and Kol deserved to be happy in his weird relationship with Enzo and Bonnie.  So she left those worries behind in the library, and went to find Klaus instead.

              He was in a sitting room, one that was well lit, an easel in front of him, paint in hand.

              “You’re an artist?” she asked, leaning against the door frame.

              “It’s a hobby.” Klaus set the paints aside to look at her. 

              “Kol left,” she said, walking further into the room.  “Off to join his witch and her vampire.  Or his vampire and his witch… I don’t know.  It’s weird.”

              “And you?” Klaus asked.  “Will you be joining them?”

              “And make it a quad?  I’d rather not, but thanks.  I thought we’d already decided that I would stick around. For a little bit.”

              It only took Klaus a second, to be in front of her, his hands on her hips.  He tugged her flush to his body, and let go of her with one hand, to cup her cheek.  They just stared at each other, bodies pressed together.

              Then Caroline leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his.  There wasn’t much a height difference, so it was easy, to initiate the kiss.  She meant it to be soft.

              She should have known that would never work.

              He turned it hungry, almost immediately, and Caroline was entirely too willing to go along with it, letting his tongue sweep into her mouth.  His taste was hot and heady, and she laced her fingers into his hair, in an attempt to pull him even closer – an impossible feat.

              She knew all the stories about Klaus Mikaelson.  He was evil.  He was volatile.  Even his own parents and siblings couldn’t love him.

              There was a time all those things had probably been said about her as well.

              So she kissed him, and kissed him, and then she pulled back, her fingers tugging at his hair.

              “If I’m staying, my cat needs to come.”

              And then she kissed him again.


End file.
